


They gave him broken wings

by guiltspleasures



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltspleasures/pseuds/guiltspleasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don’t talk about it in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They gave him broken wings

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed, please point out my mistakes, thank you.  
> The only thing in this story that belongs to me is the story line.

Jensen remembers.

They think he’s okay now, 2 weeks after the accident. But he remembers how it felt like. How it still feels. Dark, aching vacuum on the inside of his chest where his heart should be. A never ending symphony made up of wails cried into his pillows and muted screams in his throat.

Every day is a façade of smiles and I’m-okays. Warding off pity looks and polite concern from his colleagues, prodding curiosity from relatives. Every day he was torn between lying between the sheets where his nightmares haunt him and going out to face the world. Every day was a day he fought to open his eyes, to get out of bed, wash up, get dressed.

The startling chill of the water steered him from his thoughts. Jensen looked up, saw the dark looming clouds overhead and wondered how long it would take for the lightening to find him and take him down.

The raindrops fell in increasing intensity, the thought-provoking serenity shattered as the first few thunders made their presences known. Branches swayed heavily with the wind, the leaves rustling mixed in with the chaotic rhythms of the downpour.

He should leave now, he knew. But his legs wouldn’t cooperate and his heart doesn’t really want to leave, not at all.

Another roar from the clouds and another lightening flash. Jensen stared stoically at his wordings on the headstone.

“Jensen.”

That voice. What was he doing here? It was a fleeting thought, but it got drowned out by the memories of that day of the accident, the same torrential rain fuzzing up his windshield, the last minute realisation that the light coming at him was too bright, too fast and the impact –

“Jensen.” Again, the voice. This time accompanied with relatively small comfort of a shelter. He was too close, but it doesn’t seem to matter because his friend’s arms came up around his shoulders and started to steer him away.

“Come on Jensen, let’s get you home,” Jared said in his ears and Jensen’s feet started moving when it realised that he didn’t have to direct it. That Jared could take care of that for now.

His mind was still on the headstones of his once-family when they walked underneath the metallic arc of the entrance.

Jensen remembers.

\--

He is going through the motions.

Under Jared’s guidance, Jensen strips off his water-logged clothes. He steps under the shower and closed his eyes under the warm spray.

His body registers the thawing of his skin. He registers the repeated splashes of the water from the showerhead on his naked skin. He registers the relative quiet interspersed with the sound of wet clothes slopping against the bathroom tiles. He registers the heat as Jared steps in close and glides his huge hands through Jensen’s hair, pushing it back where it plastered against his face. He registers, but he doesn’t feel.

“Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” Jared says, hushed. Slowly, he started to wash away every bit of mud and grime that was still sticking on Jensen. Then shampooed his hair, massaging with delicate care. He knows that he should tell Jared to stop. That this was not going to change everything. That he could not afford this now. But he hasn’t spoken for so long; his mouth was a dry cavern and his throat was choked with all the unspoken longing and this this _this_ was exactly what he wants and needs and so Jensen kept his peace.

He couldn’t decide which one was killing him the more: the guilt or the yearning. Couldn’t tell if it mattered anymore.

Jared’s cupped his soft length and Jensen tried and fuck, he has been trying so hard, but he could no longer stop the gasp the escaped him any longer than the blood rushing into his dick.

“It’s okay, Jen, shh,” Jared muttered, his other hand coming up to bury itself into Jensen’s hair, tilting his head forward to rest against his broad shoulders. Shoulders that felt like it could lift the weight of the world and not buckle. Shoulders that meant comfort and quiet nights. Shoulders that absorbed Jensen’s unbidden tears when Jared’s hand started moving. His grip was tight and familiar, callouses on his hands flavouring the pleasure that only Jared could wring out of him. That twist at the end of every stroke, carefully measured pressure when his thumb pressed into that spot below the head. Jensen cried at the sudden excitement of his nerves, his hands coming up to clutch at those broad shoulders again.

Jared’s other hand reached around, traced a soft line along the crack of his ass. Jensen’s lips parted in another silent gasp. Goose bumps spread along his spine, down his arms and legs, curling his toes and his fingers dug deeper into Jared’s flesh. Two fingers, still tracing up and down, gradually delving deeper and deeper between the globes of his ass. Jensen felt his dick twitched and he pressed himself tighter against Jared, digging his weeping cock into his hipbones.

Then fingers pressed against his clenched hole and Jensen started trembling from the tingling pleasure. Fingers massage his entrance, made slippery by the water and soap, dipping lightly inside. “Please, Jay –” he whimpered, but Jared only pressed around his hole, teeth nibbling at his neck. His voice rasps in his ears, hot air down his blown in.

“Come for me.”

The pleasure spiked and Jensen’s teeth closed in on the flesh, his orgasms breaking him apart in Jared’s arms.

\--

After, they lay in Jensen’s bed. Jared had dried him, dressed him and Jensen did not protest when Jared wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him against him. Back to chest.

Maybe he should have struggled more. Tell Jared off from treating him like a sick and dying patient, like a broken and delicate flower. Pull away from him and kick his ass for making him the little spoon. But that meant the absence of a warm body, which meant chilling loneliness could wrap around him instead. And well, it wasn’t that much of a fight.

He could take this guilt for tonight. Just tonight.

\--

There was panic and fear and a blood rushing need to get out get out get out –

Danneel, oh god, get out! His hands, slip sliding on the steering wheel as he swerve out of the headlights and lost control. His car, spinning and spinning and spinning and the tree came out of nowhere as he struggled to get his seatbelt off, to push Danneel – heavily pregnant Danneel oh god – out of the way although there was nowhere to go and then –

“Jensen! Jensen! Jen – wake up!”

Jensen was shaking – shaking so hard – curled up into a ball as he gasped awake. His hands were gripped the sheets, knuckles white. The sheets were tangled in his legs and Jared was all around him. Terror still clung to his chest as his hands released their hold of the sheets, scrambled for Jared’s and hugged them to his chest, his jaws still shaking.

“Sorry sorry sorry it’s all my fault I’m so sorry oh god my fault my fault my baby girl,” the unending litany that has been playing on loop in his head since the accident, muttered and mumbled and cried into Jared’s hands as if they could provide him absolution.

Jared only hugged him tighter to his chest and slowly rocked him to calmness.

\--

They don’t talk about it in the morning.

Jensen (with the dark smudges under his eyes and shakes in his fingers) drank his coffee and did the dishes.

Jared (with the bite bruise on his shoulder and finger-shaped bruises on his hands) ate his pancakes and went for a jog.

The silence spoke volumes.

\--

When Jensen’s mum called again, Jensen was strumming on the guitar.

Jared muted the television and watched Jensen’s side of the conversation. The tight shoulders, the annoyance in his tapping toes, the reassurance that he was fine and yes he was eating, yes Jared is taking care of him, no don’t worry mum, he is okay.

He seemed to shake out of the dazed funk he got into yesterday and Jared felt a little – just a little – lighter.

A heavy sigh and the simultaneous dropping of his shoulders prompted Jared to move over to Jensen. He knelt between his legs and tilted his head up to him. Thumbs traced his freckled cheekbones, the shadows under his eyes, swiping back and forth. Jared’s eyes seek his and asked a question that Jensen had no answer to.

“We shouldn’t,” he wanted to say, but it got lost in Jared’s mouth.

Then, Jared was kissing his neck, licking behind his ears and god, he missed this. Missed this so much. His hands seems operating by themselves, started to weave between Jared's hair and the groan from him resonated and echoed in Jensen.

"N- Jay," the nickname slipped out and Jared’s only response was to bite down on his ear lobe. His fingers, still tangled in Jared's hair tightened into fists, pulling his head up.

"Let me take care of you Jen." And Jensen could not resists that plea.

Even if the guilt made him puke the next morning.

\--

It went on for two weeks. A month from the deaths of Danneel and his unborn baby girl.

There – at least he could say it in his head now.

Every day, Jensen did his thing. Woke up, puke – or gag when there’s nothing left inside – washed up and by the time he was out, Jared was shaking himself awake.

A handful of times, Jared pinned him with a stare when he emerged from the bathroom, eyes sober and weighing him in. But Jensen brushed it off, pulled up a tentative smile, a quiet, “morning,” and then left for the kitchen. Jared did not pursue it.

Then, it was breakfast (Jensen cooked and did the dishes because Jared is a fucking klutz) and after, they either ran errands or watch some television. Maybe read. Sometimes talked. Or when work started, left for work. Cliff greeted them hesitantly cheery the first morning, then revert to his normal happy whistling self the days after when he realised that Jensen was okay.

Nights rarely varied, even after work started. They would order take-out, or have it before they arrive home (home, hah.) Take turns to shower (or together, when they felt like it) then cuddled up in bed, tired. Although Jensen would never admit that he was always the little spoon, or admit that he liked being the little spoon.

It was easy, the way they just fell into building a life like this together. Jensen choose not to dwell too much about it, but memories would bombard him with times when they actually had this, back before. The stark difference was the distinct lack of laughter and pranking around and the obvious issue they don’t talk about, that thorn underneath their flesh.

It made for a heavy weight to carry around.

\--

Jensen’s second nightmare came two months after the accident.

It was the same, yet worse because he remembers more details – felt more realistic.

Maniacal panic, the last moment realisation that the headlights were coming straight at them. Instinctual jerk to the left, Danneel‘s startled scream muted. The split second moment of relief then the sinking in his stomach when the car was still spinning – that he couldn’t stop the spinning. Then the tree jumped at him through the windshield – the frustration mounting higher but his adrenaline and fear were higher, the need to get out, get Danneel out, pregnant, no no no oh god, his arms out stretched and useless, reaching for her but no no no the tree was too close then there was a deafening pitch of breaking glass and there is a sharp pain in his throat, Danneel screaming –

“Jensen! Jensen! Jensen!”

The same loud gasp as he jerked awake, wide-eyed with terror and heavy panting. Jared’s arm was wrapped around him, squeezing Jensen’s chest tight to himself and Jensen panicked for a moment (need to get this fucking seatbelt off, oh god Dan –) before hands came up and clutched at Jared’s arm tightly. He was rocking, shaking and tears were still rolling down his face, seeping into the pillow. There was a quiet, desperate kind of sobbing and Jensen realised belatedly that he was the one making those noises.

“Hush, hush, shh, you’re okay, I’m here, it’s over now Jen, hush, shh,” Jared’s low tone lulled him down to calmness. His sobbing dissolved into occasional hitches of breaths and eventually came to a stop. He felt like a wreck. Slowly, he released his hold on Jared’s arm and the bands around him loosened slightly. He shifted, turning to face Jared but opted to bury his face into his neck instead. Jensen’s arms snaked around his waist – the first time he was physically acknowledging Jared’s presence in his bed.

Jared only tightened his hold around him, patted his head once and said, “Sleep, Jensen.”

\--

This time, when he woke, Jared was staring at him.

It sounded creepy, but it wasn’t really. They were face to face and Jared’s eyes snagged on his straight away. Jensen couldn’t hide if he wanted to. This. This is exactly what he had to face every morning since. This blissed out feeling of finally having what he wanted – but at the expense of Danneel and his baby girl.

The familiar urge to heave started to make itself known.

But before Jensen could bolt for the bathroom, Jared’s hands were cupping his face, thumb swiping soothingly on his cheeks, as if tracing the faint freckles smattered there. Jensen’s breath caught in his throat, lightheaded with the sudden act of tenderness when really, he should be quite used to this by now.

And it just hit him, this was his. His to take. Given freely. Another chance to take a shot at what truly made him happy. Not a prize, or a pleasant aftermath, or a twisted punishment orchestrated by a higher being. No. This was a gift, wrapped neatly in a bow for him, from Jared. His way of saying – I’m here for you, no matter what. Always have been, always will be. His notes and messages laced in every touch, every look, every time they spent in bed, out of bed, eating, shopping. Every night, in every gasps, every cry, and every orgasm wrung out of him. It has always been there, laid out easily for him to read. If only he had taken the chance to let himself felt it. Felt the tender love and care underneath all the time they spent together, instead of all the self-blame and self-inflicted pain and disgust for himself every time he was left with feeling bliss. And love.

After all, Jared has been nothing but tender with him this entire time.

\--

It was bright and sunny.

There was a relatively quiet, but heavy-laden peace in this decorated resting place. It was by no means tranquil, but the birds were chirping and the leaves were rustling a lullaby to a quiet afternoon.

Compared to the last Jensen was here, it was quite a change.

Taking a look around, he admit that it was a beautiful place. Could have passed for a pretty park if it weren’t for the headstones that littered the place.

Gently, he laid the bouquet down, thumbed Danneel’s smiling face. He had already started to forget the sound of her voice, the nightmares occurring less frequently. Jensen waited for the same aching to fill his chest again, but there was nothing but soft nostalgia and old love for his girl – his girls. There was a little statue of an angel at the corner of the Danneel’s headstone. It took a while, but he recognised it from a little memoir shop near where he and Jared lived. Jensen smiled in spite of himself (trust Jared to be so meticulously thoughtful).

It took him a while, one year to be exact, before he could be here now. In front of her again. He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her face and then planted his butt down on the crinkling grass. He spent the rest of the afternoon with his girls.

It was a beautiful afternoon.


End file.
